cake from scratch

Nothing magical.

Sorry but this won’t be one of those pieces where baking a cake pulled me out of my creative block and propelled me into a new and exciting dimension of pure innovation; instead it helped me organize my thoughts into a language I could understand.

For weeks now, I’ve been withholding this figurative vomit of denial within my gut, that from time-to-time would force me to purge into a deep and dull pit of self-pity. Cute right? Well, it’s true.

My inner child is hella needy, she’s a brat and persistent on making me miserable during my notable moments as well as my lowest. As this is both a blessing and curse to being a self-proclaimed creative, my inner child is heavily induced with this urgency that I need to be better and better and better than the last time.

During these weeks, I have grown bored and weary on whether I could fully trust myself with all these awesome ideas that obtain so much ambition but lack the utmost drive. Like, how the fuck was I able to get this far? 

After a year of learning, moving-and-grooving into this little cute spot that we all have learned to love and appreciate; COVL— I have to admit that I don’t appreciate myself nor admire myself as much as everyone else does. And this as you can imagine, creates a lot of trouble in my mental.

The inner child came out to play, with my feelings enduring a round of “Ring Around the Rosie” or shrouds of ATL stomps on anything I have merely thought would be of good quality. At this point my exhaustion grew into anxiety and my anxiety snowballed  into the person that I am; eventually reaching an abnormal point of comfort which then led to the odd notion that maybe I should bake a cake.

From the thrill of purchasing my first electrical mixer to following a list of ingredients to ensure a successful bake, I willingly stripped my counter of any cute decor and paraded the kitchen with all my new toys. For the next couple of hours, I immersed myself in flour, sugar and pardoned the occasional spill that wouldn’t necessarily be excusable on my better days.

Acting like a mad scientist, carefully measuring every step and pursuing the moment I would reach back into the oven to find a perfectly golden round of cake. And so I did.

From the looks of it, I’ve mastered the ability to build something from scratch by following the instructions,  buying the equipment to whipping the frosting like they do on Cake Wars this led me to believe I was on the road to full victory yet to my surprise ladies and gentlemen the cake was dry as fuck, so dry I had to accompany this mild triumph with a glass of water.

Obviously, I could easily suffocate myself with the driest cake known to man-kind or I could ignore all the welcome signs into Negative-Ville and admit that as much as I need to succeed and be this great creative, I have to swoon myself to a good life at my own given pace.

Or in this case, I can’t have my cake and eat it too. At least not right now.